


First Strike

by KheWolf



Series: Scorpius [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Danger, Gen, Post-Episode: s03e12 Lunar Ellipse, Scorpius - Freeform, el naddaha, new enemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KheWolf/pseuds/KheWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Derek go into hiding, while Stiles informs the others about the bounty hunter attack. Lydia receives a warning from a new villain, and Scott is almost lured to his death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Strike

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the events of Season 3A. I'm basically writing a mini-season. One last hurrah with some of my favorite characters before the deaths and farewells of 3B. Please let me know your thoughts! I anticipate having this be 5-7 chapters, depending on how the story develops. I've been researching lots of mythology, and I'm hoping that pays off!

            “Dude, no!” Scott whispered, covering his grinning mouth with one hand.

            “Dude, yes!” Stiles countered, holding up a hideous Hawaiian floral button-down shirt. He licked his lips, admiring the atrocity before him.

            “We’re dead. We’re so dead.” Scott breathed, but he followed Stiles anyway, which was typically how things went with their friendship.

            They were back at the hotel, in their connecting hotel rooms. The Stilinskis in one, the McCalls in another. Derek was showering in the McCall bathroom, cleaning up after surviving a poisoning attempt by bounty hunters. Derek’s old shirt had been left virtually unwearable after the ordeal, covered in dirt, wolfsbane vomit, and sweat as it was. Stiles had told Derek that he’d get him one of his dad’s shirts for him to wear. He just didn’t say which one.

            Stiles left the shirt folded immaculately outside the bathroom door. It was neon orange, with horribly clashing bright blue Hawaiian florals. Stiles had never seen anything more beautiful. He retreated to the Stilinski room, Scott right behind him.

            Scott’s Mom, Melissa McCall, was busy making sure Stiles’ things were packed. “Stiles! There you are.” She gestured towards an open suitcase, a pile of wrinkled clothes left carelessly on top of it. “Which of these are clean, and which are dirty?”

            Stiles shrugged, his arms flapping by his sides. “Uh…” Melissa sighed and looked up resignedly.

            “Ok then. Just make sure it’s all zipped up. Your dad should be back soon.”

            “Did he have any luck with the plane tickets?” Stiles crossed to his suitcase, and began halfheartedly shoving clothes around.

            “Don’t know…” Melissa answered, her hands busy with packing. “Scott, where’s your toiletries? Stiles, your dad is in the hall, calling them right now. If he can, he’ll get us on a flight home as soon as possible. Which is why-” here she turned towards the boys, hands on her hips. “-we need to be ready to leave as soon as he gets back. Boys?”

            Before Scott and Stiles could reply, they all heard an outraged, “STILES!” Scott and Stiles looked at each other and burst out laughing. Melissa looked at them open-mouthed and raised an eyebrow. Her hands crept towards her hips again.

            Then Derek made his entrance. He was in what could best be described as a towering fury. His forehead was deeply furrowed, his eyebrows arched threateningly. His bared torso rippled with hardened muscles. In his hands he held up the abomination of a shirt. “What. Is. This?” He hissed fiercely.

            Stiles and Scott, grinning like loons, both shrugged unconvincingly. Melissa was in the corner of the room unsuccessfully trying to cover a grin. “It looks… It…” Derek’s piercing gaze shifted to her, and she couldn't even follow through with her lie. A small giggle escaped her, and then she was laughing. Scott and Stiles howled with laughter, while Derek glared at them. If looks could kill, they’d be frying in a vat of oil. Then the door opened and Sheriff Stilinski entered.

            “We’re set for a flight later today. We have 3 hours till-” He stopped, taking in the scene, as they all looked at him, laughter suddenly contained. The Sheriff saw Derek holding the monstrous shirt and his face dropped a bit. “Ah, Derek, I hate to be rude, but… is there anything else you can wear? That’s my favorite shirt.”

            “Oh my God.” Was out of Melissa’s mouth before she could stop herself, and once again, her and the boys laughed unrestrainedly as Derek stared daggers and the Sheriff looked aggrieved.

            *****

            Several hours later, they were all aboard a plane together heading back to California. They’d made it to the airport without incident, but no one was really at ease. The plane was in the air now though, and they had all relaxed somewhat. Stiles had somehow contrived to sit next to Scott, though their tickets had placed the group in seats scattered all over the plane. They needed to talk.

            “Scott, do you know anyone who you've pissed off enough to want to kill you?”

            “Stiles, ever since this began, people have been trying to kill me, and we never know who it is! Gerard? Peter? Ms. Blake? The Alpha pack? Look I don’t know!”

            Stiles rolled his eyes. “Ok, enough drama. Some of those people are dead, and we did a pretty good job of wiping out the Alpha pack. Could this be… I don’t know, anything related to that? Or the Nemeton?”

            “Maybe?” Scott said, worry creasing his forehead. “Look, I just don’t know!” Stiles looked closely at Scott. His best friend was frowning out the plane’s window, his brown eyes brooding.

            Stiles put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be ok. We’ll talk to your boss. Derek and Deaton usually know something.” Scott brightened up at that. Stiles didn’t think it worth mentioning that he didn’t trust Deaton that much, or that Derek typically knew nothing, and was often dependent on his wacked-out uncle, Peter, for information. Stiles sincerely hoped they wouldn’t have to consult with the older werewolf. He would never forgive Peter for almost killing Lydia the night of the prom last year.

            A firm hand on Stiles’ arm jolted him out of his angry reverie. “Jesus Christ.” He swore, throwing himself back into Scott as Derek’s scowling face suddenly appeared inches from his own.

            Derek was crouching in the aisle, clearly wanting to talk to Scott and Stiles. He seemed nonplussed by Stiles’ jump-reaction, but Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that Derek had planned it as some sort of misguided revenge for the shirt fiasco earlier. “What do you want?” he demanded rudely, his arms flailing as he regained his seat.

            Derek’s lips quirked into a mocking half-smile. “Oh I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” Derek grinned, baring his teeth. Stiles curled his lips and he flashed his teeth right back at Derek, somehow working sarcasm into the gesture. Stiles couldn’t help but notice how large and muscular Derek was when they were this close. He didn’t care though. As he had once told Scott, ages ago it seemed, sarcasm was his only defense.

            “Ok, guys, really?” Scott leaned around Stiles’ wiry frame to address them both. “Can’t we just work together without all the...teeth?”

            Stiles and Derek broke eye contact, Stiles leaning back sulkily so that Scott could talk to Derek better. He was pretty sure that Derek wanted to talk to Scott alone, but that was a no-can-do. Stiles wanted to hear whatever it was that needed saying. He pointedly crossed his arms and looked expectantly at Derek.

            Derek ignored him. “Scott, I need you to talk to your Mom. I don’t think you should go back to your house.” Derek said without preamble.

            “What? Why?” Scott asked, skeptical and confused. With incredible force of will, Stiles managed to refrain from sarcastic comments in Derek’s direction. He knew Derek would have some sort of reasoning.

            “Those bounty hunters knew where you would be. They might know where you live, and until we know more about them, I think you should lay low.” Derek explained patiently.

            “Lay low… with you?” Stiles interjected skeptically. Derek turned and gazed at Stiles silently. Stiles wanted to make a comment about Derek’s capabilities to protect others but the remark died on his tongue. Derek’s hazel eyes were determined, but pinched slightly with pain. Stiles vividly remembered Boyd’s death, when Boyd had been cruelly forced onto Derek’s claws by the twins, Ethan and Aiden. An image also leapt to mind of Derek carrying Erica’s lifeless body, recovered from the Alpha Pack’s headquarters. It was clear that Derek remembered that too, and still carried the guilt of their deaths with him. A wave of regret and pain of his own washed over Stiles, and he blinked fast to prevent tears from starting. He thought of Scott, and of bounty hunters with wolfsbane bullets attacking during the night. He took a deep breath and came to a decision. “Well then… can I come too?” He asked quietly.

            Derek seemed slightly surprised at the change in Stiles. “I don’t think so.” His voice lacked the usual hard edge. He was gentle, but firm. “Scott and I can move quickly if we need to.” He left the rest of his thought unsaid, but Stiles finished it for him.

            “And I can’t.” Stiles sighed bitterly. He knew he didn’t have the same capabilities as Scott and Derek, but the rejection still stung.

            Scott had watched the whole exchange wide-eyed, tilting his head to look at whoever was speaking. Now he seized the moment to jump back into the conversation. “Okay… but how am I going to explain this to my Mom?”

            Derek shrugged and stood up, and he was his usual unreadable self again. “That’s up to you. But when we land, you’re sticking with me.” Derek stalked off towards his seat.

            Stiles rubbed his hand through his hair as Scott sank down in his seat next to him. They had a little over an hour left to explain things to their parents. They ended up in this position far too often.

            *****

            Lydia Martin checked her reflection in a pocket mirror. She puckered her lips and shifted her position to ensure her lipstick was perfect from every angle. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a coifed bun, and her eyeliner made her green eyes stand out charmingly. She smiled, satisfied. She enjoyed looking beautiful, especially in front of others, and it was something that she excelled at.

            She was sitting in the passenger seat in the car of her best friend, Allison Argent. Beside her, Allison’s lovely dark brown hair spilled down around her shoulders, glowing slightly in the light of a setting sun. Her mouth was pursed in worry, and she drove aggressively, something Lydia chose not to comment on.

            They were on their way to the Stilinski house to catch up with Stiles, back early from vacation. Stiles had called them, and told them that they had been attacked on their vacation, that there was a bounty out for a true alpha, and that Scott was going into hiding with Derek Hale, something Allison had strongly protested against. Lydia knew that the Argents and the Hales weren’t entirely over their feud, and also knew that Derek had been indirectly responsible for the suicide of Allison’s mother. Derek had been acting to save Scott’s life though, something that Allison hadn’t discovered until recently. Allison’s shoulders were tense, and Lydia suspected that her friend was thinking about Derek and the fact that Scott was now relying on him for protection. Lydia decided to try and push her into a more constructive line of thought.

            “Allison.” Allison started a bit, her thoughts interrupted. “Does your family know anything about bounty hunters?”

            Lydia could almost see Allison’s mind starting up, switching into active thinking. “Hmm. When we lived by our old code, I understand that my family sometimes did things that weren’t strictly…” She trailed off, searching for a word.

            “Legal?” Lydia supplied.

            “Moral.” Allison corrected her, tossing her hair slightly in disdain. “The original idea was that werewolf hunters would be the vanquishers of supernatural evils. They didn’t have a problem employing any means necessary to achieve their ends. I know my father has underworld contacts. Some of those people could easily be bounty hunters.”

            Lydia nodded thoughtfully. What Allison said reminded her of Allison’s aunt, who had used any means necessary to try to destroy the Hale family. She discretely pushed the thought aside. Allison certainly didn’t need more reminders of family problems.

            “So would he be able to find out more about this bounty? Like who the instigator is?”

            “He might. I’ll call him once we talk to Stiles.” Allison seemed more confident in herself, and Lydia smiled. Allison always felt better when she had a plan to act on.

            A few minutes later they arrived at the Stilinski residence. Together they rang the doorbell, and within seconds it was jerked open by Stiles, panting slightly and off-balance. Lydia raised her eyebrows, but a small amused smile crept onto her lips.

            “That was fast. You weren’t waiting _too_ impatiently I hope.” She teased, stepping inside, Allison following. Stiles grunted and closed the door beyond them, surreptitiously wiping his face with one hand. Lydia saw with a start that he must have been crying: his eyes were slightly wet and the area around them red from rubbing. She knew how to recognize it from experience: after Jackson had dumped her and she had recovered from being bitten by Peter Hale, she had oftentimes stolen away to bathrooms both at school and at home to cry silently, feeling completely alone and helpless. Her heart went out to Stiles. He must be more worried about Scott than she had first assumed.

            Allison was already asking questions. “What exactly happened on vacation? Why was Derek there? Does Scott really need to be hiding?”

            Stiles shrugged, and led them to the kitchen where they lounged against counters. “I’m still not sure. Derek was following us because he heard about the bounty and was coming to warn us.” He raised a hand to ward off Allison’s renewed burst of questions. “He heard about it from Peter.”

            Allison stiffened, and her mouth set into a grim slash. Lydia had to remind herself to keep breathing evenly. Peter had torn out Kate Argent’s throat before Allison’s eyes, the same night he had attacked Lydia. Allison had told her that on that same night, he had also kidnapped Stiles and threatened Scott’s Mom. In Lydia’s private rankings of the quality of people, Peter Hale was somewhere in the sub-basement.

            Stiles regarded their reactions with mingled sympathy and frustration. “Look, I don’t like it either. But it turned out to be right: Derek and I ran into the bounty hunters and they attacked us both. They were looking for Scott.”

            Stiles then told them the details of his and Derek’s adventure in Mexico. Allison’s mouth dropped open, and Lydia let herself be impressed at hearing about how Stiles saved Derek. Stiles spoke quietly and without too much embellishment, but Lydia sensed his pride at being able to help. She knew how he felt. Not being trained in combat and not having supernatural strength could make one feel unneeded. She also detected a slight change in his voice whenever he mentioned Derek. He was more casual about mentioning him, lacking some of the edge he usually had. Their ordeal must have brought them closer together.

            “So Scott and Derek left us at the airport. Scott’s going to call his Mom tonight, and she’s going to call my Dad and me after.” Stiles wrapped up his story.

            “Where-” Allison began, but was interrupted by her phone beeping as she got a text message. “Oh… just a second.” She walked into the hallway, smiling shyly as she passed out of Lydia’s line of sight. Lydia’s gaze was drawn to the windows, which were dark. She’d lost track of time during Stiles’ story.

            She turned back to Stiles, who raised his eyebrows questioningly at her. “Isaac.” Lydia said with a knowing smile. Stiles’ face puckered up dramatically and he blew air out in a disapproving rush. Lydia smiled at his obvious distaste for Isaac, and knew where it stemmed from. Several months ago, when the monstrous kanima had starting murdering people, Derek had suspected Lydia. Isaac, newly made a werewolf, had been willing to kill her then, and Lydia knew that Stiles was still incensed about that. She had since forgiven Isaac, especially after learning more about the inescapable rage and bloodlust that accompanied the transformation from human to werewolf.

            Allison came back then, interrupting Lydia’s thoughts. “Isaac’s helping to protect Scott. He said that they’re planning on hiding out in Hale manor, then moving around a bit.” She seemed more relieved at the news.

            Stiles started to say something in reply, but Lydia suddenly straightened, and looked around quickly. They were alone, but she could hear something like a distant wind. She knew that noise. She shuddered, feeling cold. She knew she was a banshee now, but she still had no control over her powers, and they often struck her unawares. She hated those moments- they typically only happened before something terrible. And this felt like one of those moments.

            Heavy breathing caused her to spin around. She only saw Stiles and Allison, now staring towards her with concerned looks on their faces. Their mouths were moving, but Lydia heard only the heavy breathing, and no matter how she turned, it sounded like it was at the back of her neck. She clutched her neck anxiously, frantically. _Go away. Please, just go away._

            “Lydia…” A man’s voice breathed. She sank to the floor. She wanted to scream.

            “How fortunate to make your acquaintance.” Lydia felt Allison on one side of her and Stiles on another. She grabbed both their hands desperately.

            The voice continued, breathing down her neck. “I am called The Prophet. You have a connection, Lydia, much like my own. The gift… of prophecy.” The voice hissed on the last syllable. “You are undeveloped. Would you like to be my pupil?” Lydia shuddered. The voice sounded horrifyingly possessive, and there was a demanding quality about it that utterly repulsed her. _No no no. Go away. Leave me alone._

            “Shame that. I have a message for you Lydia. Listen closely now.” The voice said silkily, but she could sense hostility. She heard nothing but breathing for a moment, then heard two voices, a man and a woman. Her eyes widened. They were begging for their lives.

            “Please! Please, we tried! We weren’t properly informed! The true alpha wasn’t even there!”

            “Don’t do this. You need our help! We can help you!”

            Lydia’s face was a mask of horror, and hot tears slid down her face. The Prophet’s voice spoke in her ear, a disinterested whisper. “Kill them.” Lydia heard a sickening tearing and squelching sound, and suddenly saw an image of a man and woman, their throats torn out and gushing blood. She screamed then, a long, wailing scream of horror that lasted until she ran out of air.

            *****

            Scott sat up with a shock. Something had woken him, but his mind was still foggy from sleep and he wasn’t sure what he had heard. He had been asleep in an armchair in Derek’s ruin of a mansion. Most of the rooms were uninhabitable, but Derek had fixed up a couple of rooms so they were livable. At a stretch. Derek’s idea of livable was definitely open to critique.

            Scott surveyed the room. Next to him, Isaac had fallen asleep on a couch, golden hair curling every which way. It was late in the night. Isaac had been on watch last, but obviously had fallen asleep. Moonlight, bright as sunlight to Scott with his enhanced vision, slanted through glass windows that Derek had replaced. Derek was nowhere to be seen. Scott assumed he was out patrolling the reserve, or whatever it was Derek did by himself during the middle of the night. The guy never seemed to sleep.

            Scott crossed his arms and paced silently. Now that he was awake, he couldn’t shake a feeling of disquiet. Someone should be on watch anyway. Scott mentally went over the events of the past day. He remembered calling his Mom earlier to reassure her, telling her that the danger was exaggerated, and that Derek was just being overprotective. He had hated lying to his Mom. But Derek had told him that the bounty hunters knew about the Stilinski/McCall vacation, and had known which town they were staying in. Scott didn’t want his Mom to get caught in any crossfire if someone found out where he lived. He refused to think about leaving Stiles behind as well. His best friend had looked lost and genuinely afraid for Scott, but there was nothing he could do. He would only endanger his Mom and friends if he stayed at home. He moved to a window and leaned against a wall, and took up his watch.

            Scott had been staring moodily out of a window for some time before he became aware of the voice. It was soft and lovely, seeming to float through the night effortlessly. “Isaac.” He whispered. Behind him, he heard a stirring. “Isaac, do you hear that?”

            “Hear- wha?” Isaac muttered drowsily. But Scott ignored him, and opened the window to hear better. Isaac sat up behind him, rubbing his eyes and looking confused.

            Now Scott heard the voice more clearly. “Scott… Scott…” It sang sweetly. There was a wonderful layering effect, so that the voice seemed like a chorus all on its own. The voice kept singing his name, and it had a mesmerizing effect. He felt wonderful listening to it. He wanted it to keep singing. Before Scott was quite aware of himself, he found himself walking quickly through the forest, following the voice.

            “Scott! Scott, where are you going?” Isaac’s voice hissed behind him, confused and anxious. “Scott!” Scott felt a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off roughly. The voice was calling him, and it was getting louder and more insistent. He began to jog, and he quickened his pace as he heard Isaac running after him.

            Scott crested a hill and paused as he saw the owner of the voice. It was a tall, slender woman, amazingly beautiful. Her rich dark skin reflecting the pallid moonlight, and she stood steadily in front of a fast-flowing river.  Her lithe arms hung at her sides, and she wore a loose white dress that billowed slightly in a breeze. From her lips issued the voice, still soft and calm, but calling to him more forcefully than ever.

            Scott started towards her eagerly but arms encircled his chest and yanked him back. He rolled over in a sudden rage, and found Isaac clinging to him, shouting his name. The lovely, soaring voice called him, and with a roar, he threw Isaac into a nearby tree. His claws came out, and his eyes flashed red. He had to get to the woman. She was calling him.

            “No! Scott! Scott, stop it! Wake up!” Isaac yelled, and tackled Scott to the ground from behind. Scott roared again, but this time, another roar answered him.

            Derek Hale leapt across the river from the opposite side, landing near the woman. His claws were out and his eyes glittered ice blue. The woman leapt backwards and hissed at him. The voice morphed suddenly into a heinous shriek that caused Scott to cover his ears in pain. The woman took three quick steps into the river, and before their eyes, seemed to melt into its surface. Derek swiped viciously at where she had been, but his claws passed through nothing but water.

            Scott found himself breathing heavily. Isaac rolled off him with a pained grunt, and Derek stalked over, sheathing his claws. Scott pushed himself to his knees.

            “What the hell was that? Who was she?” Scott demanded of Derek, a catch in his voice.

            “I don’t know.” Derek’s face was deeply troubled as he looked at the surface of the water. Isaac held out a hand and pulled Scott to his feet. They all stared warily at the spot where the woman had vanished.

            “But she knew where to find you.”

 


End file.
